


Freedom

by woodsong_1978 (Vae)



Series: The Good Ship Serenity [1]
Category: Firefly
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Community: au_abc, F/M, M/M, Slave Trade Reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-28
Updated: 2006-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vae/pseuds/woodsong_1978
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pirates AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Firefly and the characters included here are the intellectual property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, FOX and also Universal. I make no claim of ownership, and make no profit from this.

She hears the sounds of the battle long before it reaches her. Screams and yells, gunfire and the clash of metal on metal, the sound of pain in one particular voice filling her with a savage satisfaction. The first she sees of the fight is someone clattering down the ladder into the hold where she's waiting, his head turning in startlement to find her there, white teeth flashing in a grin in a tanned face before the grin morphs to a scowl at the sight of the manacles fastened around her wrists and the ropes around her ankles.

"Enemy of my enemy?"

She frowns, puzzled by the words, and makes no reply.

He shakes his head impatiently, pulling a pistol from his belt and cocking it. "Hold out your hands."

She hesitates, uncertain of his motives, fully aware that if he gets close enough she can wrap the chain around his throat and crush the life from him. If he makes it necessary.

"Look, I ain't got leisure to be searching for keys, and this boat's gonna be going down in the very near future. Got no mind to be leaving anyone on board don't deserve to go with her, but I'm short on time here. Hold out your hands. 'Gainst the side there, if you'd be so good."

Figuring it can't put her in a worse position, she does. Two accurately placed shots later, and the manacles have fallen free, two small, sharp shafts of daylight intruding through the side of the ship. The man nods at her, takes a knife from his belt and tosses it towards her. She fumbles the catch, hands still slow to respond after the weeks of being restrained, but quick enough to catch it up when it falls to the floor, looking up at him in query.

"For those ropes," he informs her shortly, grin returning as she immediately begins working on them. "Any hand with a gun?"

She shakes her head wordlessly, focused on the ropes and the prospect of freedom, at least from the ropes and chains.

"Then I'll leave you the knife. Seems you've a fair hand with that. Got a name? Got a voice, even?"

He's halfway back up the ladder when she finds her voice again, rusty from days of silence except for cursing. "Zenobia."

He glances down at her, one eyebrow lifting incredulously. "That so? Fair mouthful. Captain Malcolm Reynolds, at your service, Miss Zenobia. Shift fast enough to get on deck 'fore this girl sinks and I could have a proposition for you."

Reynolds is gone before she can respond. She's heard more than her share of 'propositions' since the day she was carried onto this ship, but she's got no intention of letting the ocean take her along with the rat-infested shell that's been creaking over open seas for weeks. Besides, he left her a knife. A sharp knife.

***

When she reaches the deck, she's only mildly surprised to see that most of the scrawny crew are either missing, dead, lying bleeding on the deck, or warily watching the biggest man she's ever seen. They're probably more interested in the fact that the man's holding the biggest rifle she's ever seen, and from the evidence, he's a fine shot with it. Fast on the reload, too, she notes, watching his hands flash and cock the rifle again almost faster than she can blink. She's so busy watching him, she doesn't notice the first mate trying to sneak up behind him until a well-placed bullet takes him through the head. That's when she sees Reynolds, a grim expression on his face, a small wisp of smoke escaping the end of his pistol, still aiming towards the very dead first mate.

He offers her a small salute with his pistol and nods at her, his gaze fixed on something behind her. She turns just in time to see a blond man barrelling into one of the guards. The blond is making whooping noises. He's obviously insane. And outmatched. Watching dispassionately, she waits for her opportunity for a clear shot, and throws the knife. The blond man looks even more shocked than the guard who's dropping to the deck, her knife lodged between his shoulder blades. Not shocked enough to prevent him shooting the fallen man before retrieving the knife and throwing it back to her with a grin. She dismisses him as a fool. There's no way he could have known which of them she'd aimed the knife at.

By the time she turns back towards Reynolds and the big man, the remainder of the crew have been cornered and are trying to surrender. Her lip curls with disdain. They've no more reason to expect that the pirates should let them live than Reynolds has to trust their surrender. Still, for a moment, he appears to be considering it, until another shot sounds. The second follows on so fast it's almost an echo, and the cabin boy's dead. The blond man's holding his shoulder and cursing a blue streak, face pale, blood escaping from his fingers. That's apparently the last straw for Reynolds.

"Well, now, and there was I thinking you'd already extended the warmest welcome." His voice is mild, his expression amiable. It's only the hard days of learning to read men's bodies instead of their words that lets her see the anger and tension laced through him. "Was gonna let Jayne there just put the lot of you outta my misery, but anyone as pulls a trick that way ain't worth the powder. Jayne," Reynolds flicks a quick glance at the big man, who's grinning with complete lack of humor, "set 'em adrift. Me and Zenobia here's gonna get Wash back to the doc 'fore we let this floating scrapheap sink to the level it belongs on."

"That's your proposition?" She bends to pull a belt from one of the bodies at her feet and snugs it around her hips, sticking her knife through it once it's settled to her satisfaction.

"No." Reynolds studies her for a moment before turning his back on the big man - Jayne - and the remnants of the crew, crossing the deck to catch the blond man as he sags, one hand covering the injured shoulder. "But I'm thinkin' it's gonna be a whole heap easier for you to hear it if you decide not to stay here and drown. Ain't gonna stop you, that's your choice. Know what mine would be."

She's forced to admit that he has a point. She rips the shirt from the same body and makes her way across to tie it around the blond man's shoulder, ignoring Reynold's impatient regard. "Dirty," she says shortly. "But it should keep him alive for a while."

***

Reynolds' ship is a stark contrast to the dirty, poorly-maintained floating prison she's left. This ship is clean, in excellent repair, and boasts a finely painted figurehead of a beautiful woman with dark hair, pale skin, dark eyes and red, red lips. She half-expects the ship to have the name of the woman, whoever she may be, but she doesn't. She's called Serenity. That's one of the things she means to ask about, if she gets the chance. If this proposition sounds reasonable.

She's left alone on deck when Reynolds takes the blond man - Wash - through into his own cabin. She raises an eyebrow at that. It has to be the captain's cabin. For one, it's on deck, rather than below. For another, it's obviously private, with a locking door and real glass in the windows. Someone's in there, too, she can tell from the sound of voices. Most like to be the doctor, from the fact that the captain comes back out without Wash, though it seems odd for the doctor to be in the captain's cabin.

Before she can ask about the proposition, there's a small commotion. Jayne's hauling himself over the rail, rifle slung across his back, and a girl appears from belowdecks to greet him. Enthusiastically. He's barely got his feet on deck before the girl's flinging herself at him, but he's not objecting, grabbing hold of her, lifting her up to kiss her and she's laughing, arms around his neck, legs locking around his waist, skirts around her thighs. The two of them disappear together, somehow managing to negotiate the ladder without disentangling from each other.

The sound of a throat being cleared makes her look around. The captain's watching her, his expression more of a mask than any scrap of fabric could be. "See you've encountered our carpenter, then."

"Carpenter?" She can't keep the disbelief from her voice.

"Little Kaylee, there. Kaywinnet Lee, to give her full name. Joined us from a transport boat, few years back now. Keeps us floating. Ain't never figured what she sees in Jayne, and to tell true, ain't never wanted to." His eyes narrow slightly. "It's between the two of them. I don't stick my nose in, and you ain't gonna, either. Come on up top."

She follows him up to the wheel, trying to figure how a girl like that's got carpentry skills, when it looks like Jayne's valuing her for a whole set of other skills, and her suspicions about the proposition deepen. The knife's a comforting discomfort against her side through the ragged fabric of her shift, and she's more aware of her exposed legs with every moment that passes. More so when the breeze tugs at the thin linen, pressing it against her body. She resists the urge to fold her arms, but the captain's noticed her discomfort. 

"Can get you clothed, if you're wanting. Comes along with that proposition I mentioned. Me, I don't hold with slaving. Don't see that there's any folk got less of a right to being free than any others, and I purely do resent those as believe they got the right to take it away. Includes lawfolk, case you're wondering. Now, I can't promise to get you back home, wherever that is, but I can offer you a place here. If you're wanting one."

Her expression hardens. "I don't ..." she searches for the word the slavers taught her. "Whore." It's an ugly word, feeling wrong in her mouth, but not as wrong as the act would feel in her heart, her body, her soul.

Reynolds stares at her in silence for a full minute until she has to look away, blood heating her face. 

"That what you're thinking of Kaylee? 'Cause if that's so, you get that outta your head this instant. Now, they ain't married, that's true. Don't mean there's one thing wrong with what's between them. She's an open-hearted girl, our Kaylee, and that's how she ended up transported in the first place, being a little too free-hearted. Pled her belly to escape dancing the gallows jig; lost the babe not long after she joined us. Weren't for Jayne there and our doctor, would've lost her right along." His voice was soft with regret, and something else she couldn't identify. "Reason I'm telling you this, we ain't got a place for a whore. Got a place for a fighter, right enough, and from what I saw back on that barge, you're surely that. You feel to tell me what it is you thought I was offering you, Miss Zenobia?"

She risks looking back at him. The mask's still in place, face unreadable, but his posture tells her more than he probably thinks it does. "Saw you looking... at me."

"You thought I wanted... oh, girl, you got entirely the wrong idea!" He chuckled, pushing away from the rail and heading back down the stairs. "Just thinking on the best person to find you some clothing, since you got a few inches height on our Kaylee. Still, if it's gonna set your mind at ease, you just come along with me one moment."

She hesitates when she sees him heading towards his cabin, but the exasperated look he throws her is enough to have her following, fingers brushing over the handle of the knife. _Her_ knife. 

He stops outside, rapping on the door with his knuckles. "Simon?"

"Not now, Mal," comes a muffled voice from inside.

Reynolds' good humor fades into a scowl. "Doctor, you get yourself out here this instant!"

The door opens, revealing a very annoyed-looking young man with a blood streaked apron tied around his waist. His hands are stained with blood as well. "Captain, perhaps if you require my presence, you could consider waiting until after I've finished extracting this bullet from your helmsman? Or maybe next time you decide to take a slaveship, you could try doing it with more than three people, resulting in Wash not getting shot? I suppose that at least it gives me some variety in my patients. After all, I'm nearly bored with pulling bullets out of you and Jayne. And not to mention the endless stitching of the same -"

"Doctor!" Reynolds interrupts, voice low and dangerous. 

The doctor subsides with a glare, and apparently very little fear of his captain. "Yes, Captain?"

Reynolds reaches out to take her arm, urging her forwards. She twitches away from his touch, moving of her own will. Nobody else. Nobody else will get to dictate her movements. Not now.

"Were four people, not three, and this here's the fourth. Thinking of joining with us, but got herself some doubts regarding my intentions in her direction. Thought you could maybe set her mind to ease a mite."

With a worried glance back into the cabin, the young man comes further out, studying her. "I see. Or rather, I don't, but never mind. Simon Tam, at your service, Miss... I didn't catch your name. Forgive me for not shaking hands, I'm rather..."

"Yes," she agreed, eying the state of his hands. "Does the lunatic live?"

The doctor stiffens at her words, throwing a quick look at the captain, who shakes his head just a little. "Means Wash, Simon. No one else. Lady's name is... come to think of it, it's a fair bit of a mouthful. You got any objections to us shortening that string of syllables you call a name?"

"To what?" she snaps. Had enough of folks trying to rename her. She's got no need for a name like the last she was given, was never born to be a Mary.

"Nothing extreme," Reynolds assures her. "You got objections, won't be doing it, but with Kaylee and Wash already shortened... What's your thinking on Zoe?"

She rolls the name around in her head, tasting it, feeling the shape of it. It's a good name. Short, strong, definite. "It fits."

"Good. Simon, lady's name's Zoe, and she's thinking I got designs on her person." Reynolds grins, offering a hand to the doctor. "Think you could help me convince her elsewise?"

Simon hesitates, then wipes his left hand on his apron before taking of the captain's hand. "Of course." He smiles, letting the captain draw him close, not quite close enough that their bodies are touching, but closer than most people are comfortable with. She watches in surprise as the young man tilts his face up, and Reynolds leans down a little to kiss him. Their fingers intertwine, and the kiss looks like it could be going on for a while, eyes closing, lips teasing at each other, gentle nips of teeth and heat almost shimmering the air around them. She's close to embarrassed by the time they part, but she hasn't looked away, and there's no doubt this isn't just a show put on for her benefit. She knows now why the doctor's working from the captain's cabin. Most like he sleeps there as well. Or doesn't sleep. 

Reynolds draws a slow breath as he straightens, eyes dark as he opens them again to look into the doctor's face. Simon keeps his eyes closed a few seconds longer, tongue flicking out to lick his lips, whispering something too low for her to hear. Something that makes the captain smile and lift a hand to caress the young man's face. "Need to keep you busy, love," he murmurs. "How's Wash doing?"

"He'll live," the doctor replies, visibly pulling himself together. "Of course, he may not want to for the next few days, but the bullet's out. I just need to finish stitching the wound. You interrupted me just as I was starting. It's all cleaned out, and he's passed out. Probably best that way for now."

"Good to know." The captain turns back to her, hint of a smirk playing about his mouth. "So, regards that proposition..."

"I'll take it," Zoe answers instantly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as ever to lvs2read for sterling beta work.


End file.
